Let My Heartbeat Be the Rhythm That Puts You to Sleep
by scenevampirepuppy
Summary: UsUk AU-Alfred and Arthur go to Massachusetts on a whim. That's the main idea. It'll probably end with them starting a romantic relationship. I suck at summaries, and I hope the story is better than this. Rated M 'cause I'm not sure where it's headed entirely. If it doesn't live up to M in the end, I'll change the rating. Title from Lullaby by Chester See.


**(A.N.) So. This here shall be boyxboy(it escalated rather quickly after I wrote the summary for it.)**

**The lines represent, like, time gaps in the story. No flames please. If you don't like it, don't read it please.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or it's characters, obviously. Um. I'm bad at disclaimers.**

* * *

He wanted to go on a road trip-

"To bloody where Alfred?"

"To Massachusetts babe," the American's voice came over the phone in obviously enthusiastic tones. Alfred had called him—at seven in the morning no less—to ask him to go to Massachusetts on a whim?

"One, why? And two, don't ever call me babe," Arthur absentmindedly twirled the phone charger cord around his finger, mindful that he didn't unplug it. What was in Massachusetts that suddenly made Alfred want to drag him there with him? Almost like reading his thoughts, Alfred spoke again.

"It's, like, the best place ever man! And even though its summer, it can totally be cold some days too," the Brit didn't think it possible for Alfred to sound more excited.

"But— Alfred I have things to do here. I have things to pack and I have to clean and-"

"Exactly! We can totally celebrate you moving to the US! It'll be fun Artie," Arthur groaned in response. He couldn't just leave everything to go on some spur of the moment road trip-turned-celebration-trip. He had to get things in order before he had to leave. Well, sure— he had plenty of time to do everything, but Alfred's plans were just putting a dent in the extra time he could most definitely use to get ready for this move. It had taken forever to finally catch a house on the west coast of America. He'd had to get a fully furnished house, and that was actually a lot harder for him for some reason. It had taken months and months at a time before he had finally gotten an email about a snug little apartment about 15 minutes from the beach, plus it came fully furnished. When he had flown in to look it over, it was even more roomier than he thought it would be. The modern, sleek black furniture and steel appliances was a plus for Arthur, and the dark hardwood floors would make for an easy cleaning—easier than carpet, anyway. The price was reasonable enough for a two bedroom, two bath apartment.

"Al," Arthur sighed, "how long do you plan to make this trip exactly?"

"O-oh, well uh...I was thinking a couple of days— maybe a week or so," the Brit sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He supposed he could definitely find the time for the trip; it's not like he didn't have the time for both packing and going with Alfred. Arthur hadn't properly spent time with Alfred in the longest time and, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he missed the American. Arthur smiled as he remembered snippets of times he'd been hanging out with Al. He remembered this one time when Alfred had moved into a new house in Georgia and had called Arthur—who was coincidentally visiting a relative in Florida at the time—and asked him to help Al paint the house. The Briton had reluctantly agreed, bid the relative farewell, and started heading Alfred's way. By the end of the day, they were covered in paint splatters from where they'd playfully had a fight with the different-colored paints, and it was just so late that Alfred has insisted on Arthur staying the night. The aftermath of the fight contained Alfred, who had light blue stuck in his hair, along with dark green practically covering every inch of his t-shirt, and Arthur, who ended up being almost completely cloaked in red, different shades of blue, and a green that Alfred had absentmindedly muttered that matched the Brit's eyes, staying up that night and watching cheesy chick-flicks. Arthur had thought that that evening seemed like it was filled with couple-like things, but the Brit brushed it off.

The American had always had a thing for Arthur, whether it was platonic or with romantic-interest, or both. He'd just always admired the Brit. Whenever he had the chance, Al would always complement the other, never failing to leave Arthur a flattered bundle of stutters and 'thank you's. Alfred would always smile, sometimes blush, and rub the back of his neck nervously. Over the years, Alfred had just excepted that Arthur wasn't interested in that way, and he lived with it. And it didn't bother the Brit in the least—hell, they'd even bought a cute little Golden Retriever puppy named Charlie together not too long ago. He just figured that he should take it as a compliment. Just because the American had a slight attraction to Arthur didn't mean they couldn't still be great friends. The fact that they'd been friends since high school—Arthur had been an exchange student and Alfred was nice enough to befriend him and show him around, despite Arthur being a few years older— also contributed to that. But sometimes, Alfred would let something romantically-based slip and Arthur would have to awkwardly deal while Al made frantic apologies. He'd always just hug the American and tell him that it was fine. Maybe that fueled Alfred's liking towards him, but whatever. One time, Alfred had impulsively called him 'babe' and, sure, it kind of startled Arthur, but it's not like he couldn't handle it as Alfred flooded him with 'I am so sorry's. That night—again, with insisting that Arthur stay so he wouldn't have to drive to his Floridian relative's— was nothing but awkward and Alfred barely talked to him. After Arthur had left and gone back to his cozy London townhouse, it was around two weeks before he heard from the American again. Al started with multiple apologies, which Arthur dismissed with ease and a plethora of 'its ok's. Events like that were always the rougher part of their relationship, but it wasn't nothing they couldn't get past.

"C'mon Arthur, please," Alfred's pleading tone brought Arthur back from his memories and thoughts, and back to contemplating whether to go on this trip or not. The Briton let out a clipped sigh.

"Fine," and the American practically squealed on the other side of the line. His attitude about this virtually shouted 'excited-six-year-old'.

"When could you get here?" Arthur contemplated the best way he could do this. He could take a flight from London to Florida—which was around seven hours—then drive to Georgia to Alfred's.

"I could take a seven hour flight to Florida then drive to your house. That would prevent us from leaving until the next morning though," still, he could almost feel the American's excitement through the phone. Alfred replied, enthusiastic as ever, "That sounds great!" Arthur heard a puppy barking in the background. Alfred mumbled something about it being two a.m. his time and Charlie was demanding that Alfred needed to get to sleep—well, the American interpreted the barking as that. They traded goodbyes and hung up in a matter of moments.

* * *

The flight the next day went well; he'd gotten into the Florida airport at two p.m, and the drive from the airport—obtaining a rental car and all—to Alfred's was about five hours at the most, and the American, along with Charlie, ran outside to greet him around seven p.m.

"I held off on dinner until you got here," Alfred said as Charlie raced inside the house ahead of Arthur, whom the American was holding the door open for, "but then I forgot." Typical Alfred, Arthur thought kindly as he walked into the living room. The coffee table in front of the sofa clearly lived up to Alfred's story.

"So you ordered Chinese take-out," Arthur laughed, carrying a luggage bag toward the stairs. He dropped the bag lightly at the bottom step, and Alfred rolled up another bag of luggage beside the bag the Brit put down. He grinned as he leaned toward Arthur to wrap an arm around the Brit's shoulders in a half-hug, "Chinese is good though, dude."

They walked back to the couch and Arthur took a spot on the cushions. Alfred mumbled that he had to feed Charlie, and went to the kitchen. The American returned a few minutes later, the sound of puppy teeth chomping on dog food seemingly the loudest sound in the house. Al took a spot next to Arthur on the couch.

The next two hours consisted of a mixture of eating, watching tv, and just talking. It was around ten o'clock by the time everything had been cleaned up. They'd talked about how long the drive would be from Al's house to Massachusetts—around 18 or so hours and some long, odd minutes. Arthur insisted on staying the night at a hotel in between the 18 hours; they'd take turns with driving, Alfred first, then Arthur. Al and the Brit had come to an agreement to just take Charlie with them. They'd have to find a dog-friendly hotel, but that would be just fine. They decided that they'd leave Alfred's around seven-ish.

That had taken another hour to sort out, and by the time they were done getting everything in order—including Arthur helping Alfred pack—it was finally eleven. Charlie had long fallen asleep in Arthur's lap, the Brit residing on Al's bed as the American finished up his packing. When he turned around, it was to the sight of the blonde Briton, now laying side-ways, cuddled up with Charlie and obviously in a peaceful sleep. Alfred smiled. He went over to the bed and managed to cover the both of them up with his brown, down-stuffed comforter. He turned on a lamp on the nightstand, then turned to leave. He turned the bedroom light out and then shut the room's door as quietly as he could. Alfred laughed affectionately at his friend. It hadn't been the first time Arthur had fallen asleep in his bed—and didn't that thought send a shiver down his spine, despite his better judgement. He grabbed a blanket and a pillow from the hall closet and went downstairs to make a bed out of the sofa. It was comfortable enough. When he'd eventually managed to make up his bedding and actually laid down, he finally realized how screwed he was going to be on this trip.

* * *

Like the plan, they'd woke up around six, got everything packed into Alfred's '76 Ford truck—"Are you sure that old thing won't _break down_, Alfred?"—they were finally ready to leave just a little before seven. Arthur was surprised that they were actually a tiny bit early, considering he was traveling with Alfred. In other instances where he went somewhere with the American that involved packing things into a vehicle and leaving at a set time, Alfred was completely hopeless. They would always end up late. Arthur had eventually learned to make sure he told Alfred a earlier time than when they actually needed to leave, that way they would actually be on time. They double-checked that they had everything, put Charlie in the middle seat, and they piled in at her sides.

* * *

"'M sorry I fell asleep in your bed, Al," Arthur chuckled as Alfred and he walked Charlie around a large grassy area at gas station. Arthur had been woken up this morning to a Charlie licking excitedly at his face and came to find out that he had fallen asleep in Al's bed last night. Alfred smiled back at him, "Nah, it's okay Artie. I figured you were tired as hell from your trip over, so.." he trailed off at the end of his sentence, the Brit and himself already starting to walk back to the truck. They had made as little amount of stops as they could and now it was about time that they find a hotel. Due to Alfred's forgetfulness, he had completely forgotten about finding a hotel and getting a room. They would just have to go and search for one. It was around seven or so, and they'd stopped for dinner maybe an hour back. When they got back in the truck, they immediately began looking for a hotel.

Almost two hours was spent finding a hotel that allowed dogs, and everything turned up unsuccessful. When they did find a hotel with a sign that said 'pets allowed', they instantly pulled in. Alfred excitedly jumped out of the car to check if there was a room. Arthur had instructed the other that the most comfortable way to do this was that they had to have two beds. The Brit thought that, if it came down to it, he could manage a one bed room though. He wouldn't prefer it, but he'd be able to manage. And managing he planned to do as he saw Alfred's face as he walked back out of the hotel lobby. Alfred peered in through the open driver's window.

"Well, there's a room," Arthur definitely knew where this was going, but he raised an eyebrow in suspicion anyway, "but there's only one bed..." Alfred trailed off by the end, and he wouldn't look at the other blonde. Arthur made a sound of slight disappointment.

"But the chick at the counter said that the next hotel that allowed pets was a couple hours away and, I don't know about you, but I'm gettin' pretty tired of driving," the American propped his chin on his folded arms, hunching over to reach his arms where the window was down. Arthur sighed. It was the best they could do for now. Even so, it was only one night, what could possibly go wrong in one night? So, with that thought in mind, he agreed. Alfred went to get the room keys and Arthur switched over to the driver's seat to go park. Alfred found the truck and hooked Charlie up to a leash. Arthur grabbed Alfred's bag he'd need for that night and handed it over to him, then he grabbed his and put the strap over his shoulder. Arthur was still thinking of how sleeping arrangements would work—though it wasn't like it was a major problem; they would just have to sleep in the same bed. They've known each other since high school, it wasn't like sleeping in the same bed was anything new. Guys have sleepovers too, they just make them sound less girly. But they were older, and later in life Alfred discovered that he fancied the other blonde. Arthur still liked to think that this was nothing new. But as they waltzed past the check-in desk, they received an odd look from the two workers behind the counter and the Brit was rendered insecure.

They had made it to their room—which was on the second floor, so it wasn't too far to take Charlie outside—without any problems, except the few weird looks that they kept getting, to which Alfred was oblivious. The Brit found this irritating. First, people should mind their own business; two, they weren't even together—they could be brothers for all they know; and three, why did this made Arthur so mad anyway? He knew that Alfred and he weren't in a relationship, so why should it matter to him? Arthur shrugged it off to the back of his mind. All he wanted was to go the hell to sleep. They finally got inside the room and Alfred let Charlie off her leash. She happily bounded around the room, pouncing into a recliner near the window. Arthur watched as Alfred's blue eyes scanned the room, spending too much time looking between the one bed and the recliner Charlie was laying in. He was visibly weighing his options.

"I can chill in the recliner and you and Charlie can have the bed," Alfred moved into the room before Arthur could protest to his suggestion. The younger man searched his bag for sleepwear and as the Brit closed and locked the door, Alfred just decided changing right in the middle of the room didn't matter. By the time he had his shirt crumpled in the floor and he was dropping his belt to the carpet, the older man was blushing. He couldn't help it. I mean, to Arthur—straight or not—Alfred was practically the perfect vision of the male body. He was like a model and it was ridiculous. The Brit eventually averted his eyes as Al stripped down to only his boxers. It was then Alfred actually bothered to turn and face the other blonde.

"O-oh, heh. Sorry Artie. Um.." Alfred nervously rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "is,uh- is this cool with you?" Arthur could see the sudden panic spread across the other's features. "I-I mean, 'cause I can totally change into something more- uh, y'know-"

"Alfred, you git. Calm down, you're fine," and Arthur definitely didn't catch onto the fact that, normally, he would've said 'that's fine' to someone. Alfred blushed and looked down.

"Yeah, right. Uh, alright," Arthur stood there watching the other for a few moments before decided that he should change into something to sleep in too. He'd gotten some thin, red plaid pants along with a random black t-shirt and headed to the bathroom to change. He looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still red and the flush went up father to the tips of his ears. What the hell? The Brit shook his head. He was over-thinking about this. He just needed to sleep.

When he was finally changed and he walked back out into the room, Alfred had set some food and water out for Charlie, who was happily munching down on her food. Alfred wouldn't look at him and he was obviously having issues with trying to get comfortable in the recliner. Arthur guiltily took the right side of the bed. Getting under the covers and relaxing against the pillows, he heard the younger man let out a long sigh. Arthur was almost panicking. He didn't want to be rude to Al. After all, Alfred was the one paying for most of the trip—hey, it was the American's demands. He heard the other sigh one more time before turning heavily over on his side. And that was it for the Brit.

"Alfred," it was more like a question, rather than jut getting the other's attention. He heard the American 'hm' in response.

"Alfred, just come sleep in the bed. It's not a big deal," he watched as the other turned to face him. Arthur absentmindedly noticed that when Alfred didn't have his glasses on, the Brit could see his eyes more clearly. And since when did Arthur pay that much attention to that? Okay, now he really believed that he needed sleep.

He watched as Alfred slowly got up from the recliner and made his way to the bed. Just as slowly, he climbed under the blankets on the left side of the bed. Arthur let out a relaxed sigh, then he noticed that Al was frigidly laying as far on the edge as he could.

"Bloody hell Alfred, just relax!" he snapped. He hadn't meant to, but dammit, now this was just irritating. It was like every time Alfred actually paid attention, he seemed to be tiptoeing around Arthur. It should be the other way around anyway, not Arthur urging the other to come sleep in the bed instead of the armchair.

The younger man stammered out an apology, moving just a little inward in the bed. Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. At least the git wasn't almost hanging off in the floor anymore. He moved over to Alfred on a blind impulse. The action didn't actually register in his brain before he realized his lips were against the American's. Arthur's eyes shot open—weird, he didn't remember closing them—and he quickly pulled back from the other, Alfred's body rigid with surprise.

"I-I'm," Arthur managed to stutter out, "I'm so sorry, Alfred." The man in question just laid motionless and silent. The Brit made to quickly move away from the other, but stopped when Alfred caught his gaze and put a hand on the older man's cheek. Arthur was slightly surprised when Alfred pulled him in for another kiss and the Brit had no idea how much he actually had wanted this. Maybe not over to years like Alfred, but definitely as of recent. Slowly beginning to move their lips against each other's, the kiss lasted a minute or so before Alfred pulled away, seemingly reluctant to part from the Brit.

"Calm down, you're fine," Alfred quoted the other from earlier and quickly moved in for more kisses. Alfred moved from the Brit's lips to kiss across his jawline and Arthur opened his eyes as he let out a quiet gasp. He inattentively looked over at the clock on the bedside table. The fierce green lights read out '10:34'.

"A-Al-," he involuntarily gasped again as the other blonde found an unknown sensitive spot just below his jawline. Alfred let out a breathy groan and his hands slid down to the Brit's waist to pull him closer. Arthur was almost on top of the other before he remembered what he was trying to tell the other.

"Al-Alfred, it's half past t-ten," the American continued on as if he hadn't heard Arthur and his lips pressed fervent kisses to his neck. "R-ngh, r-really Alfred, we— we need to go to sleep, love."

That seemingly broke the other out of his trance and his hands fell from Arthur's sides. The younger man blushed, his ears completely red by this point.

"S-sorry Artie," Arthur swallowed audibly before pecking the other on the lips one last time. He went back to his side of the bed, and Alfred practically followed. Al pulled the other to his chest, wrapping his arms around the Brit's slim waist.

"G'night Arthur," the older man slowly put his head against the other's chest, and Alfred settled his chin on top of Arthur's head. He was asleep in moments and Arthur let out a contented sigh.

"Good night, love."

* * *

**(A.N.) So, yeah. This will be chaptered, so..if you're interested, y'know, follow the story.**

**Um. Reviews are pleasant. No flames please. ^^;**

**This is actually fairly sucky all the way through. If I have time anytime soon, I'll possibly rewrite the parts that I/the readers are unsatisfied with.**


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